Reversals
by LaCasta
Summary: UPDATED: Lionel is lost in memory while KalEl's mentor is displeased with events. AU. Greedy and unscrupulous!Kents, benevolent!Luthors, KalEl now rules the planet. Usual disclaimer.
1. Default Chapter

Nell Potter tried to act as though Jonathan and Martha Kent were just any customers as they walked in the door. "Hello, looking for anything in particular?"  
  
"Change for a dollar," Jonathan handed her a bill.   
  
She turned to the register and gave him the quarters, which he counted before dumping in his pocket. Pretending she hadn't noticed the gesture, she said, lightly, "Tiger-lilies on sale today."   
  
"Well, even if they're cheap, tiger-lilies are so likely to get parasites, wouldn't you say?" Jonathan smirked at Nell, with a slow glance at her crotch and then her belly, and Martha didn't even try to stifle her laugh. Nell gritted her teeth. She suspected he knew just how much she wanted to forget that abortion, but the ten intervening years hadn't made the pain any smaller, just more cunning in the way that it lay in ambush in the back of her mind.  
  
"This robot plays baseball and never ever strikes out," a voice announced from the back of the store, and Lana held up her latest Legos creation.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
  
"It's all right to be scared, Lex, but you can't hide from the things that scare you," Lionel said gently as the helicopter began its descent and his son covered his eyes.   
  
Lex slowly lowered his hands and with a sidelong glance and tiny smile, asked, "What if it's a bear?"  
  
"Well, okay, you can hide from a bear." He grinned back and Lex relaxed a bit.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
  
It sounded like thunder, even though the daylight sun was still pouring into the flowershop. Lana stopped working on a robot who could drill through anything and ran to the window to see what was happening.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Lex ran from the gasping figure on the cross. "I'll get my dad and the Rosses, they'll help," he tried to promise, but the sudden, tempestuous wind and a tightening in his throat and chest forced the words back.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
The sky was filled with fire and the truck rolled over. As Martha tried to free herself, she saw a naked little boy crouching to look inside the truck, smiling as though he thought it was a clever trick. "Help!" she screamed, hoping that the little brat's parents were somewhere around. She wondered if he was retarded or something since he just kept looking at them and smiling. When she screamed again, he looked puzzled, tilted his head to the side, and then pushed the truck upright.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
  
"Lex!" Lionel grabbed at one of the tufts of hair, then saw pale skin and dark clothing lying a few feet away. "Thank God," he whispered, as he saw that his son was still breathing. He tried to look for bruises--if there was any spinal injury, he shouldn't move him--and didn't see anything, but Lex lay so motionless that he was still reluctant.   
  
He ran to the roadside and tried to wave down the passing red truck, but instead, it accelerated as it passed him. The next car stopped and a driver got out.   
  
"My son, I can't tell what happened, his spine..."  
  
"I'm an intern at the hospital. Just got the call to come in. Where is he?"  
  
The woman crouched next to Lex, prodded and pinched at various spots on his body, and then said, "I can't say for certain, but I think it's safer to get him to the hospital now than to wait. I can lightly immobilize his back and neck anyway." She bit her lip as if a sudden thought struck her. "You do recognize that there's some risk and that I can't make a diagnosis, just give advice based on very little information?"   
  
Lionel bit back nervous laughter. "I wouldn't stab a Good Samaritan in the back." He lightly squeezed Lex's hand, "I'm here, it's okay, you're going to be all right, that's my brave Lex," as the woman deftly fashioned a makeshift support from the thicker cornstalks.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"Oh, sweetheart, baby," Nell rocked the sobbing Lana back and forth. Neither of them even remembered that Lana usually hated endearments like that. 


	2. Chapter 2

"It's worse than that, Debra, he looks like some kind of a freak!" Lillian Luthor hadn't realized that Lex was coming into the room as she was talking on the phone. "And the way he stares in the mirror like he thinks that it's all going to grow back that minute, well, it's almost creepy. Lionel thinks that he should stay home for the rest of the term, but he's got to learn how to deal with it. People will be looking at him all his life, Lionel can't shield him from that, though God knows he wants to shield him from everything." She sighed. "Maybe it will be the making of him." Lex retreated as quietly as he had entered.   
  
It looked like math was the same with parents. If you had a father who loved you and a mother who didn't really care about you as a person, it was like adding a positive and a negative number. You were lucky not to have zero--or less--when you finished.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"I *know* it's weird that they'd adopt, but it's not suspicious!" Marie Peters, the vice-principal of the elementary school, looked at Tom Benson, the second-grade teacher, in an exasperation that he knew wasn't directed at him. "I even made sure that I was there and got a good look at him when the class went to the pool. There wasn't a single tiny mark anywhere on him, not even the usual scratches and bruises any kid has."  
  
Benson nodded gloomily. The Kent child was clean, fed, didn't show any of the signs of physical or any other kind of abuse, but there was still something wrong about him and he was sure it had something to do with the Kents. He didn't like it, and he liked it even less since hearing that they'd gotten rid of all the farm help since adopting the boy.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"I can't see *through* things," Clark whined. "I can't tell if there are any cameras." Jonathan Kent grunted in annoyance and lowered him from his shoulders. At least Clark was getting faster every week, it seemed, probably soon he would be able to blur past cameras without being seen. Then it'd all pay off in serious money. In the meantime, they weren't going to risk anything on the penny stuff. It'd be worth the wait.   
  
  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"The main problem, it looks like, is that the plant's been focused on maximizing its current processes, not looking at other developments." Lex said carefully. "That's why it's been losing ground."  
  
"Such as?" Lionel Luthor steepled his hands and leaned back.   
  
"Well, the high-pressure processing, that looks like it could really give a cleaner burn, using sulfates to bind to the trace metals, not hydrogen, and maybe ozone instead of UV light to kill E. coli."   
  
"Estimated capital outlay?"  
  
"For sulfates, only two hundred thousand, for the ozone, 1.2 million, for the high-pressure, 2.4 plus retraining costs and retro-fitting, so a total of about 3.1."   
  
"You had those numbers right at the tip of your tongue, didn't you?"  
  
"Well, I had been thinking about it since you said the board was listing shutting down as an option."  
  
"I thought so, Lex. You've just been assigned your exec placement." Lionel chuckled at Lex's startled and then gratified expression. "Time to start stepping out of my shadow."  
  
***  
  
  
  
"A truck?!?! You saved a billionaire's life, and he just gave you a truck!?" Jonathan kicked one of the tires in frustration, and muttered obscenities.   
  
Clark shrugged. It was a pretty cool truck, even if he thought that somebody driving a Porsche could have done a lot better. He'd go over to say thanks in person. Aside from knowing that good relations with a billionaire would be useful, it was a change to say that he was a Kent and not have the person act like he'd said he had rabies. He'd not admit that, of course, to his parents, or just how welcome a change it was, even to himself.  
  
  
  
***  
  
AN: How does this very "snapshot" approach work? I'm going to try it, I think, for as far as this fic wants to go, and since it's new for me, I'd really love to hear if it's workable or not. -- Thanks! 


	3. Chapter 3

Lana made a hideous face in the mirror. She felt like such a loser. Sure, Aunt Nell kept telling her that she wasn't, that it didn't matter what activities she was in as long as they were what she wanted, but sometimes she wondered if life would be different if she were a girly-girl. Wearing pink. Even being blonde. Like a certain transfer student from Metropolis. Whose mother, in case Chloe hadn't reminded everybody within the last hour, had ditched her and her father.   
  
The problem was that she couldn't help liking Chloe. She was funny and intelligent. While she was nice, she had just enough edge to keep from being sweet. That made it worse, Chloe was as non-bitch that Lana couldn't even really hate her guts. Chloe's guts were probably pink. Or blonde. "Hi, I'm a sweet little duodenum," she twittered at the mirror, not realizing that Chloe had just come into the bathroom.  
  
"Identity crisis, Lana?"   
  
"Just trying to remember all those bits and pieces for bio."   
  
Chloe laughed, "Yeah, I keep getting them mixed up." Her voice was muffled as she closed the stall door, and Lana made one last face, this time, all wide-eyes and tilted head.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Clark stared around the hallway. This place was unbelievable! Yeah, definitely, the guy could have afforded something more than a truck, even a truck with all the options. He lifted the visor of one of the suits of armor and nearly jumped back at the sight of a face looking back at him. A green, fuzzy face with round plastic eyes. Oscar the Grouch. In a suit of armor. Whatever.  
  
That wasn't really a sword-fight he was hearing, was it? He opened the door cautiously and watched. Yeah, swordfight. Who did the guy think he was, Zorro?  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
"I'm saying we just try it out. Even if he's still not faster than a camera, we put a mask on him. It's late at night, nobody's going to be around, and if they are, he can take care of them. What's the worst that can happen? He gets caught, he knows that if he tells anybody that we told him to, we tell all about him, and bang, in a lab or at NASA or Roswell or whatever."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, Martha, we can still do that, but I bet there's a lot more to get out of Luthor's precious cue ball son. The guy's worth *billions* and it'd be more likely to be cash. Take anything else to a fence, you get, what, a third of it, and you've got to worry if somebody's going to talk. We figure out the right thing to do with him, we've got it made." 


	4. Chapter 4

Five years later...

Lionel prayed as fervently as he could that nobody would recognize him. That they'd think he was just another looter. Even if it meant staying in this prison forever, or being shot. Either was infinitely preferable to what would happen if somebody looked at him more closely and said, "Wait a minute..."

Fortunately, the guards who were taking him and the other prisoners in seemed entirely bored by their jobs and he was shoved to the floor against a wall, among others sitting there. The guards radiated boredom, the prisoners apprehension. Every now and then, somebody was brought to their feet with a kick and taken elsewhere, without a word passing.

He'd kept his head lowered but still saw the legs stop in front of him. He'd endure whatever would follow bravely, he tried to promise himself. "Mr. Luthor, will you come with us, please?"

It was so far removed from the possibilities he'd envisioned that it wasn't until he heard the request repeated that he understood and rose, with the unexpected aid of a firm arm under his elbow. It was some official, rather than a guard, though they both wore the same symbol of a globe under an eye and hand extending from the well-known image of the House of El. The official hardly looked the way he should after the capture of an underground leader: He looked rather embarrassed. But Lionel still had no option other than to follow him.

As they walked, he tried to create a mental map of their surroundings, but was disoriented at least twice as he was sure that they had already passed a certain landmark, but at a different angle or from above or below. "Soon there, Mr. Luthor," the official escorting--there couldn't be another word for it--him said just as he wondered if this was some hallucination of an interminable passage to an unknown end.

When the official finally opened a door with an air of finality, Lionel was only moderately startled to see that it looked like a very comfortable hotel room. "Kal-El expects that he will join you later tonight. In the meantime, if there's anything you'd like, please dial 0."

Left alone, or at least without overt observation, Lionel inspected the room, prodding the bed, which seemed almost unbearably clean and soft, reading the titles of the books that were carefully lined up in a small bookcase, and finally drawing closer to the greatest temptation, the marble-lined shower. Fresh, hot water, real soap... Part of him wanted to resist for the sake of not accepting any benefits from Kal-El. But all the rest decided that he might as well take advantage while he could and that part won this dispute.

He had just barely gotten out when there was a knock on the door and an unfamiliar voice calling, "Mr. Luthor?" as it opened. By this time, it almost seemed inevitable that it was another earnest-faced underling carrying a room-service tray. "Kal-El regrets that he's delayed and probably won't return until tomorrow, so he'd like you not to wait up for him."

As ruthless conquerers went, Kal-El, whom he'd known only as his son's rather sullen protege, seemed to be downright diffident when it came to one of his inexorable foes.

AN: This story took a bizarre twist about five years into the future. Or maybe it's a standalone. Who knows? The Muse has resumed her experiments with the shreds of my mind, that's all I know!


	5. Chapter 5

Lionel was even slightly relieved to find that the trout under the covered dish was not excellent. It was quite good, far better than anything he had eaten for quite some time, but that was it. A perfect meal would have been the crowning touch on an almost laughable upheaval of his expectations.

There was nothing else to laugh about, though. He'd been identified and it was impossible to believe that this was a sign of Kal-El having an entire change of heart and that the delay in returning was because he was dismantling his regime and it took a bit longer than anticipated. This had to be just a cat-and-mouse game, enlivened, at least for the cat, by leaving him confused and in suspense.

The question now was whether he had any possibility of escape or sabotage. If he pretended to cooperate in order to save his life, or to break down during torture, he might be able to feed them useless or outdated information while sneaking in important misinformation. He admitted to himself that he had only one real goal: to keep Lex, Pete, Lana, and Chloe safe. Lex was his own child and the others he had come to love almost as deeply. And that was where guilt came in. If he had tried to care about Clark Kent, instead of just trying not to voice his objections, if he had paid more attention to the boy's need for attention and acceptance than to his background, attitude, and greed, would all this have happened?

Wearily, he changed into the soft-fleeced sweats that hung in the bathroom and climbed into the bed. Thoughts of his small group's safety raced in his head but the thought of his own responsibility stood solidly, unchanging, in the middle, and the other thoughts were as shaped and driven by that as though they were planets orbiting a sun, incapable of escaping its gravity.

The knock on the door woke him from a sound sleep into disorientation, but the next, a moment later, brought him to full alertness. "Come in!" he called, getting up hastily to avoid the appearance of having been caught totally unawares, for his own dignity rather than in the hopes of deception.

A young man stood in the doorway, a tray with a pot and two mugs held against his side. It was Kal-El.


	6. Chapter 6

_You'd better be able to come up with a good lie real fast_, Pete warned himself as he crouched next to the sleeping Lex, his ear almost resting on his friend's chest. He was relieved that Lex didn't wake up but more deeply alarmed that his breathing was no easier. The meteor shower had made him highly susceptible to illness and slow to recover from injuries and their current living conditions, in a sub-basement of an abandoned Metropolis warehouse, were a far cry from a health resort.

That was one thing to worry about. Lionel's extended absence was another. He had told them not to worry, that he wasn't sure how long his reconnaissance would take, but Pete had started worrying last night. He himself had to make his way across the city to debrief the survivors of an Edge City resistance group and Lana, before heading out again with Chloe to retrieve listening devices they had left in an officers' barracks, had reported a rumor that Kal-El had come back to Metropolis unexpectedly. Unexpected Kal-El was still more cause to worry.

With another concerned glance around, he pulled on his looted uniform and climbed the ladder to the Metropolis streets.

* * *

Kal-El was taking the situation entirely in stride as he urged more coffee on Lionel. Lionel only hoped that he looked as though he were doing the same as he leaned back in his chair. "This is an unexpected sort of meeting, Clark."

He watched intently for even the tiniest sign of a response to his use of the old name. Kal-El looked at him blankly for a moment, and then said, as if it were obvious to even the dullest mind, "You're Lex's father." Abruptly, he pushed away from his chair and stood with his back to Lionel. "I don't think it's much consolation to you, but when I heard that he was dead-" He cleared his throat, "When I heard that he was dead, I actually cried that night."

He turned back to Lionel. "You saw how I burned Smallville to the ground myself, but I left the mansion standing, just as it was. I wanted it to be his house again." He sat down again, as if exhausted by a grief that time had turned into an intolerable weight. "It's yours if you want it, even if he's not coming back."

Taking an audible breath, he stared bleakly at the table. "They tell me what they think I want to know. As if they know what I want. Do you...do you know what really happened? Did he...was it true that he, that after he was wounded, he...lasted for four days, and that if, if I'd gotten to him with medical care in time, he'd have made it? But instead, it was...it was pretty bad for him?"

Lionel frantically searched his mind for the right answer, but it took a fraction of a second too long and Kal-El grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, shouting, "You have to tell me!" Just as Lionel bit his lip with the pain of the grip, he let go and muttered a barely audible "sorry."

Lionel played for time. "They told you that?" Kal-El nodded and then stared into Lionel's eyes. "What is it you're not telling me?" After a pause, he whispered, and it sounded as fervent as any prayer Lionel had ever heard, "He's alive, isn't he? Lex is still alive." An expression of absolute joy crossed his face. "Listen, we'll bring him here, if there's anything he needs, or just someplace to rest, we can do that, or if there's someplace else he wants to go, I'll take care of it, he can have the best of, well, of everything, if he's still hurt or sick or anything like that."

"Clark-"

"This...it's a second chance. Not just for me and him, but for everything. I know I've made a lot of mistakes but if I've got him here, I can start again. It's not too late, is it?" The eyes of the man who ruled the planet pleaded with Lionel for the answer.


	7. Chapter 7

Pete carefully folded up the notes he'd taken. Every bit of information helped, or at least Lionel said so. The more they knew about Kal-El's or his commanders' plans or infrastructure, the more they'd be able to block the worst. Most importantly, there might be some trivial detail that would lead to finding some kind of weakness in Kal-El. Pete only hoped that there was one to be found.

"What are you guys planning to do next?"

"We're just going to lie low until the baby comes. Unless, that is, there's anything that you want us to do."

"What _I_ want you to do?"

Paul, who had done most of the speaking, and the other three survivors nodded.

"I don't know, man, I'm not the one to make that call." If he hadn't taken a deep breath first, he'd have sounded even more alarmed. Lionel hadn't given him any specific directions, just to do what seemed best. He'd planned on cornering Lionel and getting details, but Lionel hadn't returned in time.

"It's all right," Sarah said as she got up, her belly swollen but not yet too awkward. Pete wished that he could have been certain that she and the others hadn't exchanged glances of disappointment, but it would just make things more awkward if he said anything.

* * *

Lionel knew the full sea on which he was afloat. This moment might mean another chance, not just for Clark, but for himself. If _this_ time he treated Clark as a young man who desperately needed acceptance and warmth, who was capable of receiving and returning a friend's love, instead of somebody whose family and upbringing meant that he didn't deserve them, it would defeat Kal-El more surely than all of the minor sabotage they had ever accomplished before.

"I'll take you to him," he said, quietly.

Clark grinned, shot out into the corridor, and it was only a few minutes later that Clark was driving, following Lionel's directions, given, purely in defense against the speed, as slowly as possible and with frequent interjections that he'd have to see to remember exactly where the landmarks were.

When Lionel led him into the basements, he jumped at an unexpected and unidentified noise from above. Clark also turned but didn't stop for more than a second. "It doesn't sound like anything."

Lionel unlocked and opened the door and Clark pushed past him. Lex was sitting at the table, an oil lamp lighting the map he was annotating. "Oh, Lex," Clark called, and Lex leapt up as it burst into flames under his hands. "There you are, Lex," he said, with great satisfaction, as he strode towards him, and in movements so swift Lionel couldn't even see them until they were done, fastened a choke chain around his neck. He swatted Lionel aside and jerked the chain, smirking as Lex stumbled.

"Clark, why?" Lionel couldn't even look at his son, for fear of seeing the expression on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Kal-El's face was coldly contemptuous. "Because tricking everything out of you was easier and faster than beating it out." As if he sensed Lionel's awareness of the evasion, he dropped the chain and advanced on him. "Because you and everybody like you was always judging me and never _saw_ anything. Because I'm so much _better_, stronger, faster, I'm the goddamn Superman_, and all you_ and your type ever did was look at me like I was something somebody dragged in on their shoe and you wished they'd taken their shoes off before coming in. I'm the one who can rule the world." He broke eye contact and gestured brusquely at the uniformed men and women who had come in silently. "Go through it all, see if there's anything useful." He turned his back.

Lionel consciously called each muscle into control to keep from sagging. At least they wouldn't see an old man visibly weighted with his defeat. It was just as well that Kal-El stood between him and Lex because that sight might well be beyond his capacity for endurance. He impassively watched as they searched the basement room.

They wouldn't find anything that would be particularly useful to them. The small group had decided not to commit to paper or data anything that could harm them if it fell into enemy hands; the only intelligence they had ever written down was about Kal-El's own operations, building plans, troop postings, analysis of his intelligence operations.

"This is all," one of the uniformed men said as another put the last few papers and handhelds in a pile. Everything, Lionel realized, was of no more value. The carefully built improvised power sources, the hoarded medical supplies, food and clothing gathered for their own use and to share with the other groups, the weapons and weapon materials, everything that had been a coveted triumph was now a discard on the floor.

Kal-El turned to him again, a taunting smile on his face. Lionel thought his eyes flickered for an instant but he couldn't be sure. "Watch this," he said, quietly, and Lionel disciplined himself to maintain his stoic composure as it all burst into flames. Kal-El watched, equally silently, for a few moments, and then turned back. He pushed Lex ahead of him and two of the men seized Lionel's arms as they followed.

A soft, familiar sound gripped Lionel's attention, a breathy wheeze, followed by more, tighter and frantic, like the flapping of torn wings. Lex stumbled to the ground, coming into Lionel's line of vision, arm extended to catch himself but buckling as it touched the ground. Lionel wasn't able to pull out of the officers' grip but was able to draw almost to Kal-El's side as he stared at his prisoner for an instant, with an intent but remote look in his eyes.

Lex's abdomen contracted almost into contortion as his lungs fought to draw in air and his mouth gaped helplessly. Lionel had almost recovered enough capacity for thought to tell himself that this fairly quick suffocation from asthma was now certainly the kindest fate for his son when Kal-El abruptly crouched next to him and pulled the heavy collar off as if it were a foil wrapper. He lifted him up so that Lex's back rested against his leg, and put his mouth against Lex's, exhaling hard.

Lionel realized that the breath had briefly forced Lex's shut airways open as Lex raspily exhaled the depleted air from his lungs and gasped in fresh before they closed once more. Kal-El supported Lex's neck with a hand and repeated the process four times, staring fixedly with what Lionel guessed was his ability to see through solid objects, before Lex was shakily breathing on his own. Kal-El told him, "Right, now. In. Out. In. Out," pushing and releasing his chest. Lex's breathing steadied and his eyes regained focus. "Breath of life again, huh?" Lionel barely heard him murmur. There was another flicker of emotion over Kal-El's face but it passed in an instant and he hauled Lex to his feet and pushed him forward again.

* * *

Pete's senses were alerted by the distant smell of smoke and he pressed against a wall as he approached the building. He sent out hearing and sight like scouts, concentrating on each.

There were no unusual sounds; a light wind brushed against the deserted buildings and rustled both human trash and the city-dwelling plants that had started to flourish in cracks, but those were familiar and unthreatening, far too quiet to mask anything. He looked about for any unexpected movements or stillnesses, scanning from ground to horizon and back again, then side to side. Again, nothing.

Next, he looked for anything that had changed. Something had, something on the ground. As he edged closer to the building, he saw several tracks in the gravel-like debris. They converged in front, losing individual clarity, and dispersed again away from it. At least four vehicles, Pete was forced to conclude, had come to the building, stopped there, and left again. "This isn't good," he breathed, to hear the reassurance of a voice.

Not only did he have to watch for living observers as he slowly made his way inside, he had to be careful of cameras. _If_ somebody had come, and _if_ they had found their group's presence, they might well have left video cameras on watch. The slow pace he was forced to take gave his imagination plenty of time to churn up the nightmare possibilities. He had left Lex there and Chloe might have been there as well, depending on timing. He couldn't bring himself to hope that the vehicles had been friendlies.

The smell of smoke grew stronger the closer he got, though it was far from overwhelming, more like the remnants of a large bonfire. An unexpected reflection farther ahead caught his eye and he pulled out a laser pointer, shooting it obliquely to temporarily blind a lens. As he got closer, he saw that it was indeed a lens but his aim had been accurate. He kept the pointer in position as he passed it, dropping it only when he had turned the corner.

He finally let himself give up his cautious progress when he saw the doors open and smelled the smoke more clearly. He ran through the last corridor, his footsteps disproportionately loud, like rising drums on a soundtrack, stopping only when he saw the piles of burnt debris. He wanted to double over in pain as he saw them and the pain redoubled when he saw that everything was burnt, including the bedding in the back.

Things like this had happened and he knew far too many details. Finding a piece of metal tubing that retained some shape and strength, and pulling his shirt off and wrapping it around his hands to protect them from the heat, he started to spread the three large piles in order to uncover any human remains.

Pete took a deep breath as he finished. With each motion, he'd expected to uncover an arm, a leg, or perhaps a charred head. Instead, he had to deal with uncertainty. Almost without a doubt, Lex was in Kal-El's hands. He and Lex had taken to one another on sight sixteen years ago and had become closer with each contact. When Lex moved to Smallville, they'd become like brothers. And now, well, God alone knew what was happening to his best friend. Or to Chloe. It might also be that Lionel's disappearance was involved. If Lionel had been captured and either tortured into talking or this raid had been the second part of a plan that began with Lionel's capture, it meant that not only were their two leaders lost, but two men who had been part of his family for years and since the rest of the Rosses had died, nearly all he had left of a family.

Not sure how he was summoning the energy, he left the room and again blocking the camera, he sat to wait outside. Lana, at least, was fairly certain to return. Aside from wanting to see her safe, or possibly even Chloe or Lionel, he desperately wanted somebody to share his grief.


	9. Chapter 9

Pete looked up as the bartender changed the channel. He'd waited through the game in the hope of catching a news broadcast. He had no idea what the chances were that he'd find out anything about Lionel and Lex's disappearance, but he'd run out of any other options.

Fortunately, the others in the room paused conversations and drinking as the reporter droned, "More on the biggest news item of the day, the capture of Lionel Luthor and his son. The administration has released more video clips documenting this historic event."

Lionel was brought into the prison in a group, unkempt, head hanging, looking anything but a leader. Outside the military administration building, he emerged from the armored vehicle and stood between two officers. Kal-El next left the vehicle and a few moments later, two officers helped Lex out. Lionel didn't look at him but Kal-El watched him, then frowned and touched Lex's forehead with the back of his hand. His frown deepened and he quickly undid his cape and draped it over Lex's shoulders.

Lex stood still for a moment and then reached his hands up. The cape fell to the ground and one of the officers immediately scooped it up and handed it back to Kal-El. He wrapped it more tightly around Lex's shoulders and then said something to him and picked him up, carrying him towards an approaching stretcher. Lionel had turned his head but made no move to approach or speak to his son.

The reporter introduced a person in the studio. "Dr. Lesgow has been authorized to describe the two Luthors' physical condition, since obviously there are some questions about Lex Luthor's health and his ability to stand trial. Dr. Lesgow?"

"We're treating him for several things. First, he has very serious pneumonia. Coupled with that, he has a number of infected cuts that we're concerned about and some limited but persistent internal bleeding. He has several broken bones that didn't knit the way they should have and he's significantly underweight, but those are not, relatively speaking, as serious."

"There are rumors that his condition is very precarious, can you comment on that?"

"We can't comment, no."

"What about the elder Mr. Luthor?"

"He's in remarkably good health physically. The most serious physical problems we found were cataracts in one eye and we're already treating those."

The reporter turned back to the camera. "There you have the latest in the breaking story on the Luthors. For those just tuning in, Lionel Luthor was captured in a routine sweep of looters and he immediately led Kal-El's forces to his son's location. There is no trial date set and it looks as though it might be some time before that can happen. Join us at 9:30 for a panel discussion of what this will mean to government hopes for an end to domestic unrest and stay tuned for new breaking events."

The ragged ends of his bitten nails dug fiercely into the hand Pete kept hidden under the table, while he kept a casual expression on his face, the very mild frown of somebody who is following current events because enough people told him as a child that it's important.

One man with thinning tufts of hair on his head said out loud to the silent bar. "That's something else. I mean, we know that Kal had said that he wanted them both alive and unhurt, but he was acting like Baldie's mom or something."

"Yeah." That came from a younger man who spoke down into his glass. "More than his _own _father did. What a cold bastard."

"You gotta wonder..." The first man's voice trailed off.

"Wonder what? Whose turn to buy?" A blond man punched his biceps lightly.

"Naww, you know what I mean. You just...wonder. What's going on, really."

Pete wondered, too. He wondered how any of them didn't see that the film was spliced between when Lionel got out and when Kal-El and Lex did. He wondered if any of them were even capable of seeing that the cape hadn't fallen from Lex's shoulders when he tried to grasp it. Lex had pushed it off. And Pete wondered if anybody else seeing it had perceived that Kal-El had put it back on and held it back on him only by force.


	10. Chapter 10

Lionel spread his hands in front of himself as if to placate a physical presence. But memory was more persistent and pervasive than any tangible being, slipping into the innermost defense, his mind.

He had been left strictly alone. Food and a change of clothing regularly came through an opening in the door but he saw and spoke to nobody. At first all his thoughts were of his son and the others, of trying to anticipate Kal-El's next moves. But now, images appeared and disappeared in front of his eyes, changing from clear to distorted as swiftly as reflections in water.

Lilian...when the memories of her came to him, they glided into all his senses, the elusive perfume she wore, the sensation of her fingertips brushing against his, throaty murmurs, the shadows of her dark hair against the cream of her throat, changing with each movement, every subtle intoxication of her mouth on his as everything else was forgotten. No, not even forgotten, but relegated to another reality, more corporeal but lost to perception. How she had enmeshed his senses before and how even her memory could do so again...

In those memories, her voice repeated the always-familiar words and he answered her, with voice and touch and the utter worship of the body, as she swirled around him like a veil of smoke and silk.

* * *

The problem was that Lionel Luthor belonged underground and his son belonged in a cell in the research labs. There was no reason to keep the old man alive or to keep the medical freak from being of some use. But instead, Kal-El was content to do nothing, to sit and smile at his objections.

He didn't dare countermand any of the orders or even to demand the new files on either prisoner. He'd tried to pull them up on his computer and got a message he had never seen before on any of the new government's systems: Access Forbidden. It was insufferable.

Except that he had to endure it. Kal-El had become ever so slightly restive under his guidance. Less likely to leave things in his hands, more likely to ask questions. It hadn't started out like this when he had first advised the teenager. Then Kal-El was uncertain, in need of reassurance, of somebody to give him direction. But now, Dr. Virgil Swann was contemplating, for the first time, the possibility of an erosion of his influence.

He disliked it.

* * *

AN: This is kind of what happened.

Muse: poke poke poke.

Me: I'm showering. Not a good time.

Muse: poke poke poke. Hey, I'm back! poke poke

Me: Still showering.

Muse: Remember me? Hey, I'm back!

Me, suspiciously: Yeah, I remember you. So are you going to tell me anything other than these next snippets?

Muse: Such a sense of humor. Why should I tell you anything about where this is going or anything like that?

Me, scrubbing a big toe: Yeah, why should anything change. Yeesh. You show up out of nowhere after being who knows where and you're not going to tell me anything beyond what you want right now.

Muse: You got it! And I'm being disgustingly cheerful about the whole thing, right in your face.

Me: In case you didn't realize it, I just made a really rude gesture at you with the soap. I'm talking the kind of rude that makes Marines blush.

Muse: La la la la la la la.


End file.
